


Entropy 385

by CallMeHopeless (IAmNotBread)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Car Accidents, Dark, Dark Magic, Demon Summoning, Demons, F/M, Gritty, I Treat Ben Badly...Again, Literally In The First Chapter, Mages, Slow Burn, Sorry Ben, University, Vampire Turning, Vampires, like really slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 17:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17832746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotBread/pseuds/CallMeHopeless
Summary: There are three rules every mage should live by:1. Never let demons through the doorways to this world.2. Always disclose illegal magic use to the Magisterium.3. Never, ever seek out Entropy.If you're going to protect Ben Solo: you might just have to do all three.





	Entropy 385

**Author's Note:**

> In 2014, I came up with the concept for this fic as a novel format, Entropy 385. Which then sort of never bore fruit because I'm lazy and dark fantasy is about a dime a dozen. So why not just fiddle with the characters a bit, dial up the romance aspect, make it a fic, and give it to you lovely people instead?
> 
> It's dark. Really dark. You're going to get a sense that I'm a bit fucked up from reading this. It's written in a very similar style to PLT, except much less...wholesome.
> 
> Hold onto your hats, and remember: if your friend starts bleeding from their eyes while driving...PULL OVER.

"Do it."

Mud cakes his boots as he slides across compacted dirt, kicking up liquid in his thick black armour. There's this trail of blood that leaks from the corner of his mouth and a bruise there besides: but they won't last on his skin. Nothing does anymore. It'll fade into the muscle of his cheek within a matter of minutes. He won't be dying on this battlefield unless it's now, it's _now._

Then why the fuck are you hesitating? 

He grits his teeth, pointed incisors swiping at his bottom lip as he curls his fist. Tendrils of blackness curve from his palm, radiating out entropy that makes your stomach turn.

"DO IT! YOU FUCKING COWARD!" he screams, lunging forward to grab at your ankles. Fear spikes; you lunge sideways, acutely aware of screaming somewhere off in the distance. Your heart is pounding life into your bloodstream; but his eyes are still fixed on yours. Crimson leaks out into his pupils, dilating the soft brown as he throws himself forward on his elbows. He's too weak, too starved, to properly get up: but his muscles ripple regardless as you step away from him, watching him crawling in the dirt.

"Get back!" you hiss: blood singing as you spark up light between your fingertips. It's pure UV, pure sunlight - your body pricks with singed heat as it burns through your fingernails. Holding it up to him, you let it expand outward. His dark hair falls down across his face as he tries to shield his skin from the burn; but it's useless. The blood on his cheek darkens as you stagger, your back to the rock face.

"You're so weak. Even now you can't kill me. Even now, you can't _finish what you started."_

He's right. 

He's more right than anything else.

Your hands dig into grey slate; shirt caught on the sharpness as he tries to stagger to his hands and knees. He clutches a wound in his side: even as he does, you feel the prick of it in your own body. His ribs are broken, you think. You can feel the way they're suffocating you from the inside.

"Don't" you choke; holding out a hand. The light from your palm dances up to your wrist, glowing in your veins as though it's slowly seeping the radiation into your blood. It hurts like a bitch; but if you stop, he's going to lunge at you.

You'll be dead before you hit the ground.

His gloved hand comes up to trace the outline of his lips: splaying on his eyes as though to shield himself from the glare that burns through him. He doesn't move forwards: doesn't take that final step. He just stays crouched in the dirt, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

"It wasn't...Wasn't supposed to be like this." He says quietly, voice shaking. And then again, barely a whisper "It wasn't supposed to be like this, darling."

Your knees knock at that unfamiliar nickname: a lump in your throat threatening to explode. But you raise your hand upward: energy pulling at the ligaments as you aim your fingertips at his heart. Sunlight catches, cascading into flame, sharpening into spikes to pierce through his armour. And it will - you're stronger than he is, right now. Passion fueling your movements. He can't rely on that sort of magic: not anymore.

"I know, Ben" you whisper "I know."

And then his eyes meet yours as he moves to his feet: crimson irises appraising you with a softness that you haven't seen in years and years. Starlight in the curve of his lips: in the bright white of his skin.

As you release, letting the flames surge upward: time moves back.

Back again, to the place it always draws you.

A lifetime ago.

* * *

"...Oh come on. We've been at this for years. Isn't it obvious?"

Poe chokes on a laugh, spluttering as his hands fumble at the wheel. The soft summer breeze ripples through your hair as you sit, jammed in the middle and squeezed up between your friends. You'd lost rock paper scissors, which was, in itself, damning. Namely because Finn takes up an unholy amount of space with his animated jokes, and Ben's built like a brick house, so takes up literally any legroom you might've wanted.

Rey swats Poe's arm playfully from the passenger seat, her Mark rippling on her forearm as she pouts.

"I don't remember you getting a commendation from the Dean in alchemy class."

Poe snorts.

"Alchemy, shmalkemy."

There's no real sense that Poe has won that argument with that sort of comeback; which Finn points out vocally. The radio plays some sort of high-tempo guitar song as you enter a tunnel: lights flashing by and the smell of petrol hitting your nose. It feels _good_ , being together like this. Life has been travelling so fast that this is like ice for your soul: soothing you, bringing you back to reality. You'd read online that being in your early twenties was supposed to be some of the best days of your life, but maybe that was just...you know.

Human folk.

"You drive like a prick", Finn adds. He bites down on a spare Mars bar, offering them up from a little pocket in the side compartment. Rey takes one eagerly: Ben just shakes his head, bunching up in the seat next to you. He's fidgetting an awful lot, rubbing on your Mark as though your skin is burning him or something. He's supposed to be your best friend, but he's always been...Ben. Little too uncomfortable in his own skin. Little bit anxious, like a flighty bird. Soft flickers of dark hair on his forehead; red, pouted lips. Chocolate brown eyes.

He's good at what he does though - really, really good. Comes from a long line of people who have some sort of magic touch. They ferried him into Sorcery pretty quickly as opposed to Witchcraft: he's got the innate talent for immediate, destructive magic. You're much the same - Poe and Rey are better at the more subtle, more powerful types of passive magics. Finn's a bonefied Wizard: ergo, he gets the special treatment. Spells he casts can take days to complete: could level forests or cure diseases.

But you're not jealous, right?

"Finn's right - what is this, an eighty zone? You want five Mages getting pulled over by human cops? The Dean would _freak out._ Again."

Poe just rolls his eyes at your comment, tapping the breaks just enough to slow you back to the speed limit. His brown hair is flushed golden in the lights of the tunnel, flashing by in a symphony of yellow light. You can't help but hazard a look over at Ben as he sucks his lip, tapping his fingertips nervously against his knee.

"Okay?" you ask quietly, bringing your fingertips up to just trace at the ligaments of his hand.

He flinches at your touch, but doesn't back off. His huge hands still as he lets your skin seek his. It prickles just below the surface: energy bouncing from one another's touch. Your magics are so similar that they refract one another: unable to absorb the energy difference. Almost like tiny shocks, radiating when you touch.

Or maybe that's just...just that you've been in love with him. For...forever, you guess.

Which sucks. And figures. And he is completely, utterly oblivious to.

"Yeah." He shoots you a forced smile; but as the car is basked in light from leaving the tunnel, he visibly winces. His eyelids flutter shut, and your Mark throbs with some sort of...you don't know. The patterns in the gold skin there twist for a moment, blood leaving it as though it's arching away from him. Something isn't right; your stomach turns. You try to just keep calm, keep casual. These things happen: magic isn't predictable. It lets you sense when something is wrong, but that sense isn't perfect science. When it comes to Ben, is anything?

Ben cups his hand to his mouth for a second, sipping breaths as he clutches down on his knee.

And then; things start to go sideways.

"...No! I'm just saying that if Rey were to blast you into a wall-"

"Poe?" You whisper, leaning in with one hand to trace up to Ben's nose.

Ben's breathing falters.

"...And what? Easy, no questions, I'd just use a ward and counter that. Come on Finn, let's..."

"Poe, can you pull over?"

It doesn't come out of your mouth with any real volume: your Mark starts to burn. Burns like it's trying to scar into the skin of your wrist; like it's trying to elicit the same response getting bitten by a snake would. To fucking stop, to get away, to kick the damned thing and run for your goddamn life.

But the snake your body is careening away from is in the back of this car with you.

And a thin trail of blood is seeping from his nose.

Poe eyes the rear-view mirror, clearly not really noticing what's going on. He says something about turning in at the next exit, some joke about 'car sick idiots eating too many Mars Bars on the way up here'.

But it's not going in right: it's not going into your ears in the right order or through your brain or anything. Because your blood starts roaring; too much, too fast. Your magic and Ben's are so attuned that you can feel the way his energy is careening sideways wildly, fluctuating fast as it tries to refract your own too hard. Like he's accidentally pulling your own magic inward, sucking it out and it's poisoning him: he's not supposed to be doing this and it's like he's unconsciously swallowing down raw radiation. 

He reaches out with his free hand to grab yours - and despite all fear and pain, you let him do it. His hands eclipse yours so utterly as he squeezes, his free hand trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose.

And then he opens his eyes.

"POE, PULL OVER THIS FUCKING CAR!" you scream.

They're red. His irises are absolutely blood red: pupils dilating and shrinking as though he's pulsing through reality. His face searches yours with such abject panic that you don't let go - you don't let go even as they roll back, his body convulsing and his heart thrashing at his pulse point.

You don't let go, even as the car careens off the road. Even as Poe cries out, and Rey casts a barrier to halt it to a stop. An airbag goes off: her head hits the back of the seat with force. Finn chokes as his seatbelt rises up to hit him in the chest.

Ben lolls forward. His eyes are closed, blood streaming from his nose and the tear ducts in his eyes as he goes sheet white.

You don't let go of his hand, even when they tell you: even when Maz is coaxing you, trying to rend your grip from his because _it spreads like wildfire_ and _he needs you to let him go, honey._

They call it Entropy sickness. Entropy 385.

You still don't let go.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this defs let me know because THIS IS A SUPER WEIRD AND EXPERIMENTAL CONCEPT!  
> [Find me on Tumblr!](http://callmehopeless.tumblr.com).


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